"You'll have to pass a test," Rin said calmly, seated in the guild's humble common room. With a casual swipe of his hand, the illusion hiding his features dissolved. It was a tool given to him by Ryvaris.
The air snapped still.
The three men standing nearby froze. One of them frowned. "A test?" he echoed, confused.
The tallest of the trio stepped forward again, jaw tight. "You said this was a simple job. Now you're testing us? Who do you think you are?"
Rin didn't answer. He simply stood.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then his body shimmered, and the temperature in the room plummeted. Scales, white as snow and edged in gleaming silver, rippled across his skin. His pupils turned into slits. Wings unfurled behind him with a low, rattling drag that shook dust from the rafters.
The pressure hit them like a falling mountain.
Silver veins of raw power cracked the air. It wasn't just presence,it was command, the kind that couldn't be taught or faked. The kind that made blood remember its place.
One of the boys collapsed to his knees instantly. The others followed, breath ripped from their lungs. The leader Orien fought it longer, but his legs buckled anyway. His hands dug into the floor.
"We… we didn't know," he gasped. "Forgive us, my lord…"
Rin let the dragon features recede, the room slowly returning to normal.
"No need for that," he said. "You don't need to kneel or bow. Just act as you always do. I don't care for formalities."
The pressure vanished like a switch flipped off. They blinked, dazed and shaken. A heavy silence settled, broken only by their ragged breathing.
The youngest among them, a boy barely old enough to grow a full beard, whispered, "But… why would someone like you come here?"
Rin smiled faintly. "Curiosity. Opportunity. Let's just say I'm building something,and I need the right people."
He walked across the room and gestured lazily. "So here's the test: act like I'm not here. I want to see what you do when no one's watching."
Orien, still a little pale, nodded stiffly. "We'll gather everyone."
Within the hour, the small guild was assembled. Twenty people in total,men and women, most of them young. Their clothes were patched. Their weapons worn. But they stood with quiet discipline, exchanging glances as Rin sat silently in the corner.
"Introduce yourselves," he said. "Then go about your day."
They hesitated, unsure how to begin. But one by one, names were given. Tasks resumed. The awkwardness faded slowly as they returned to routine. Some practiced in the yard, clumsy and playful. Others mended gear, cooked food, or cleaned weapons. It was obvious they lived more like a family than a squad.
Rin watched closely. Two people stood out almost immediately.
First was Orien, the leader. A calm, quiet presence. He didn't bark orders or hover. But the others gravitated toward him. When someone fumbled or fell behind, Orien stepped in,silent, steady. He was the spine of the group.
Then there was Aiven.
He was smaller than the others, maybe eighteen. Quiet, eyes always downcast. He worked without complaint, moving like a shadow in the background. But Rin saw it,the awareness in his posture, the sharpness in his gaze. He didn't just work. He observed everything.
As the afternoon wore on, a few members approached Rin hesitantly. "Sir," one said, scratching the back of his neck, "we don't have much work today. We don't want to waste your time…"
Rin thought that he was right so he tapped the armrest of his chair. "Then spar. Light contact only. And I'll speak to each of you alone."
They obeyed, setting up sparring pairs. Most of the fights were half-hearted,joking swings, slow dodges. No danger. No real effort.
Until Aiven stepped in.
His movements changed the mood immediately. He didn't smile. Didn't hold back. His strikes were clean, calculated. There was no cruelty,but there was intent. His opponent struggled to keep up, surprised by the sudden precision.
Rin's eyes narrowed.
That one's fighting like he needs it.
Later, Rin began the interviews. One by one, the members sat across from him, answering his simple questions.
"What do you want?"
"What drives you?"
"Why are you here?"
Most answers were shallow.
"To get stronger."
"To earn coin."
"To follow Orien."
Then came Aiven.
He sat stiffly, hands gripping his knees, barely able to meet Rin's eyes.
"Speak freely," Rin said.
A long pause. Then a voice,small, quiet, but steady.
"I want power. I want to protect myself."
Rin waited.
"When I was six," Aiven said slowly, "my father lost his mind. He… he killed my whole family. My mom. My brother. My sisters." His voice wavered, but he didn't look away. "I hid in the walls. Didn't move. Didn't breathe. Stayed there for two days before someone found me. I hid like a rat"
He lifted his head. His eyes were wet, but no tears fell.
"I never want to feel that helpless again."
Rin didn't respond right away. Then he nodded once.
He's real.
Then came Orien.
"Why do you lead them?" Rin asked.
Orien shrugged. "They're all I've got. I don't care about ranks or politics. I just want them to survive."
No ego. No lies. Just quiet conviction.
When the last interview ended, Rin stepped back into the hall.
Everyone had gathered. Watching him. Waiting.
He looked over them for a long moment, his gaze moving slowly from face to face.
Then he smiled.
"These," he said, voice low and sure, "are the people I want."